Fragile Momentum
by Julie08
Summary: When House does not show up for work Wilson is worried. A one-shot around their strong friendship. Not slash, but undertones. Rated T just in case swearing, drug abuse . Enjoy and please review!


Disclaimer: I do not make claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

Note: English is not my mother tongue, so I assume that there will be mistakes (grammar... spelling...) Please point them out to me!! Also, I look forward to your reviews. Enjoy :)

Fragile momentum.

Wilson had not seen House in the hospital for two days. He usually did not arrive before 10 and he had the habit of leaving early, sneaking out whenever it was possible. But 2 days of not showing up, not even leaving a note, that was a little strange... Cameron, Chase and Foreman were taking care of the new case and Wilson had made sure that they were okay, but still – he was getting a little worried about the fact that House had not even left a note. So, yeah, he was irresponsible, but he always took care of his work.

Wilson dialed House's cell phone number. Mailbox, again.

„House, it's been 2 days since you last showed up for work. Cuddy is pissed off and I am too, as a matter of fact, so give us a godamn sign and call me back." He shrugged. No use. House played by his own rules. He sat down behind his desk and flipped a file open. No use in wasting more time on chasing House... Then his cell phone rang. Private number. „Hello?" -"Jimmy..." - „House! Where the hell are you? You're supposed be be at work!"... „Is everything okay?" he added in a slightly less pissed off tone. -"I'm not coming in for the rest of the week. And mind your own fucking business, will you?!" -"What is going on? Where are you?" - „I'll be back on Monday".

And the line went dead. Wilson was puzzled. No sarcasm, no twisted story about 3 hookers and a trip to Mexico... Something was definitely wrong here. House had sounded so ... weary. Tired. After all those years of friendship Wilson had learned to read between the lines. He dialed House's cell phone number again but still only got the mailbox.

He popped his head into Houses office, where the team was discussing the case.

„Everything okay? How's the patient?" -" He's better, the antibiotics work. We're running some tests to see what caused the pneumonia." Foreman said. „Heard anything from House? Is he alright?" Cameron asked, trying to sound as if she did not really care. „Yeah, he's ok. Took the rest of the week off. Look, guys, I'm leaving. Page me if you need help." And off Wilson went.

Wilson opened the car and threw his bag into the back. He pulled out of the parking lot and set out driving home.

Home... That was a really uninviting place at the moment. A hotel room, that he should have left weeks ago. After his marriage had ended (again!) he had not yet found the strength to get around and look for a new place. It seemed that by moving into an apartment by himself he would finally admit to the fact that he had failed again. Another relationship had ended with betrayal and tears, another start from scratch. So the interim solution of the hotel room had become normality.

He spent most of the evenings at House's place anyway, watching TV, drinking beer, desperately trying to distract himself, to numb himself so that he didn't have to think of the future.

Being deep in thought Wilson had not really noticed that he had driven to House's place instead of the hotel. He sweared, stopped the car and wanted to turn around and head back.

But then he noticed that the lights were on in House's living room; he was at home. Maybe he should check on him. He remembered how weary he had sounded on the phone. Wilson knew that House would probably not even let him in. He wanted to be alone and if Wilson were to just knock on the door, uninvited, it was almost like asking for a slap in the face. Ah, well, he thought, may as well try...

House opened the door at Wilson's second knock. With just one glance at House's face Wilson saw that nothing was okay. He looked tired, worn-out and just overall exhausted. Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, then House moved and let Wilson in. He must be really feeling like shit, Wilson thought. He closed the door. House had sat down on the sofa again.

„What are you doing here? Wanna see what misery looks like?" House asked. He was massaging his leg, which obviously bothered him more than usual. His body was tense, trembling slightly, and Wilson noticed that he had taken more Vicodin than usual.

„I am worried, Greg", Wilson said, moving towards the sofa. „I know you, and you sounded very miserable on the phone..."

House laughed, but did not sound amused. „Miserable! Hell, yeah, see, so this is what misery LOOKS like!"

He grimaced, as a wave of pain went through him. His body cramped, he bent over and gritted his teeth. „Shit, Jimmy, leave me alone. I need to ... wait ... It'll eventually get better. Or, let's say, back to its usual level of pain."

Wilson had sat down next to him. He could almost feel House's pain. He knew how he hated to be seen like this. Helpless and obviously vulnerable. If he were a patient, Wilson would take his hand to comfort him, but physical touch would only add to House's misery. Wilson just sat there, not knowing what to do. He looked around in the room. What a mess. Take-out cartons piled up, dirty dishes and clothes... Not that House's place was ever really tidy... He got up and went to the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that House was lying down on the sofa, moaning slightly when he moved his bad leg. The kitchen looked ever worse.

Wilson let hot water run into the bath tub. He would probably have to force House, but he just could not leave and let him lie there on the sofa, in this mess. House must have heard what he was doing, but he did not object. Hmm... maybe he would not have to force him after all...

While the tub filled up, Wilson cleaned up the mess and started doing the dishes. House was on the sofa, still grasping his leg, his eyes closed and his body shivering every now and then. When Wilson sat down by his side, he slowly opened his eyes.

„Why are you still here? I am going to be fine, just go home." he said, not exactly looking like he was going to be fine any time soon. He took another Vicodin. „You are going to take a bath now. Obviously booze and Vicodin don't work. Come on, it'll help you relax. I'll help you up."

House looked into his eyes. It struck Wilson all of a sudden how blue his eyes were. Beautiful eyes, they really were. Ah... back to the point, he told himself. He took House's arm to help him sit up. To his amazement he did not resist. He whinced again in pain, but managed to stand up and together they moved towards the bathroom, Wilson's arm around House's waist, House slightly leaning on him.

„God, Jimmy. This is humiliating..." - „It's okay, Greg, just get into the tub, okay? It'll make you feel better. Let me take care of you this one time". „I'll have to kill you afterwards..." Greg grimaced, and Wilson interpreted it as an attempt to grin. „Yeah yeah, now shut up and get in".

House started stripping off his clothes. Wilson looked at the scar, which caused all his misery, his grumpiness, which had so deformed this man who once was fond of running, swimming, hiking... All those things that were impossible now. He looked away and House slowly sat down in the tub. Wilson put his hand on House's shoulder.

„I'll stay here and clean up a little. Try not to drown yourself". House looked at Wilson's hand on his naked shoulder. It occurred to him that they had hardly ever touch one another. Well, they always touched, but this was not work. He was in the tub, naked, in his bathroom. Wilson was standing next to him. The intimate atmosphere was awkward, seemed out of place and made him feel uncomfortable, but there was also something very soothing, reassuring in Wilson's presence. He was, although he'd never tell Wilson, happy that he was here. He was moved by his obvious affection for him. „Okay", House managed to say and Wilson left the bathroom.

Wilson spent the next 20 minutes cleaning up. Clothes, empty cartons, dishes... Wilson hated housework but he liked doing this for his friend. He could not take away his pain, but he could make the circumstances a little more bearable. He sighed. What a twisted relationship the had. The more Wilson wanted to understand Greg, make him come out of his shell, the more he pulled back, the more grumpy he was, trying to push Wilson away. Nonetheless, they both were happy in this fragile momentum that this friendship was made up of. Tonight, it seemed to Wilson, the balance had shifted. House, for the first time, had allowed him to see him vulnerable, had given himself to his care.

When he went back to the bathroom, House was already out of the bath tup, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt. He seemed more relaxed. „How's your leg?" Wilson asked. „Better. I hate to admit this, but that really was a good idea." House smiled. He limped towards Wilson. „I feel up for some more Chinese food and a DVD now. Wanna stick around?" Wilson smiled. „Sure."


End file.
